Please read the Introduction if you haven't read me before...

I've always liked looking at a girl in lingerie. I suppose hearing that from a guy is no surprise. A naked girl has so little left to hide, no mystery, and she doesn't inspire me to want to delve and explore as much as the way partially hidden skin covered with lace does. If it wasn't so common I'd call it a fetish, but then it is common.

But I'd never realized how much a girl could enjoy the whole production herself, until I'd started dating Melissa. Her thigh-high white stockings were what hooked me at first sight, ending just about the same height as the bottom of her short skirt as she walked past me playing pool with my friends. My buddies laughed at me as I stood up straight and eyed her retreating ass. They laughed even louder as I put my stick down and walked after her.

As I caught up to her, she reached a knot of three or four other women seated at a table pretty far from the stage. Do women have any idea how hard it is to approach them when they're in a group like that? Yeah, they probably do, don't they? But I was too close before I realized where she was headed, and I stopped short so close that they all looked at me. Some of their expressions were sort of friendly, one was downright unfriendly, but the girl with the stockings I couldn't read. As one by one they grinned at my embarrassment I realized they all knew I'd been following her.

Well I had survived worse. "Hi, I'm Blab," I said, smiling as best I could.

She said, "Hi." That was all, no name, just hi.

I tried to grin in a manner that I imagined was charming. Going for broke, right there in front of her friends I said, "Wow, sorry for intruding, but I couldn't help noticing you when you walked past me back there," I gestured vaguely back towards the pool table and my friends, who I noticed were watching intently, game forgotten. Great, more pressure.

She smiled skeptically and asked, "You noticed what, exactly, about me?" One of her friends giggled a little, and she glared sharply at the giggler before turning a smile back towards me. She waited for my answer.

"Well I noticed your stockings, actually. You look incredible in them, especially with that skirt."

"My stockings?" She had a smirk on her face now, like she was getting ready to cut me down in front of her friends and enjoy every minute of it.

"Yes, first I noticed your stockings." I looked right in her eyes, which were beautiful. I felt for a moment that those were eyes I could connect with, eyes I'd love to see gaze at me with love, or better with lust.

"It was the way your legs looked in those stockings as you walked past, and the way they moved, that made me look at you. Like I couldn't help it, you know?" My words came out faster, trying to forestall whatever negative response she was already forming in her mind. "And then I looked at your face, and especially your lips and your eyes, and I guess I just decided it was worth the risk to try talking to you."

I held her gaze for a moment and she didn't say anything. Then she held out her hand and said, "I'm Melissa." As I took her hand in mine, I heard a low hoot from my friends across the room.

Melissa and I took a few steps, trying to gain privacy from both of our groups of friends.

"So I'd really like to... um, get to know you I guess," I said.

"Well there's no time like the present," she said.

And that's how we ended up talking and drinking and finally closing down the bar at two in the morning. My friends had long gone, but a couple of hers had stayed back in the corner at their original table, making sure Melissa was safe I guess. I walked Melissa to her car, buzzing from the beer I'd drunk. I'd already gotten her phone number, and on the way to her car I suggested I call her the next night to go out.

"Sure, I'd like that," she said. Next to her car door I leaned close so I could feel her body against mine. That moment came when her face was right in front of mine, and we paused, both wondering. Her eyes were completely focused on mine. My gaze drank in her face, her cheeks, her hair, her mouth. Her lips were soft and shined with lipstick, heavy and pouting. Now or never. So I kissed her lips, and immediately she was kissing me back, her hands pulling at my jacket. My own hands had something else in mind, no doubt since I'd first laid eyes on her. As I kissed her my fingers found the smooth slippery feel of her stockinged legs, and the passion of our kiss doubled as my hand slowly stroked back and forth on her leg, and then slid slowly higher.

My whole attention was absorbed by the heat of her mouth on mine, and the cool contrast of her stocking stretched over her warm leg, the junction of which my fingertips had found. I touched and likely tickled the seem of her stocking along her thigh. The sensation seemed to touch off an incredible new level of her passion because now her kisses were threatening to devour me. And then her friends showed up and asked if she was ok.

I suppose it looked a little bit menacing, as somehow I'd managed to jam Melissa back against her car door as I leaned over her face and groped her thigh - at least that's what it must have looked like. Before I knew it, they had Melissa ensconced in the back seat and were driving off.

I had an erection that I couldn't have hidden from a satellite passing overhead.

So our first date started out really well when she came to her door wearing this stretchy top that appeared to be held together by laces that crisscrossed her smooth skin. She wore pants that were so tight I might have thought she had no underwear on at all, were it not for the thin strip of material that rose from one side of her pants in the back, which I realized was the top of her thong. She looked, in a word, spectacular, and just the kind of spectacular that makes my brain melt into mush.

Which is probably why our conversation didn't go so well. I said a couple things I thought might have been the wrong thing - I might have been sure, but I didn't even really remember what they were after I said them. Melissa was very nice about it, and afterwards I thought maybe she understood what I was going through.

During one of the long silent pauses in our conversation, when I struggled not to let my eyes wander and leer over the curves of her body in those hot hot clothes, she looked at me and asked, "So why did you want to go out with me anyway?"

Melissa, it turns out, is one of those girls that likes to ask the really hard questions.

I said, "Melissa, you've got this style that I really, REALLY like. It's the way you wear these clothes, practically lingerie, when you go out."

"Slutty clothes," she chimed in.

"Well, slutty sort of, or at least very aware of your female sensuality when you choose what you wear." At a glint in her eye I hastened to add, "I don't mean I wanted to meet you because I thought you were a slut, it's just that I like skimpy clothes, slutty clothes I guess, it really, you know..."

She smiled knowingly. "It turns you on"

I looked up at her face but she was smiling, so I kissed her. One thing led to another, and soon she was peeling off those tight pants back in her bedroom while I watched, my heart in my throat and my cock straining in my jeans. When she went to loosen the laces of her top I stopped her. I liked it on. She licked her lips as she pulled me onto the bed.

That was the night before last, which brings me to the reason I spent so much money on lingerie last night. After we fucked, which was incredible, Melissa treated me to a fashion show of her personal collection. I was continually aroused more and more with each subsequent garment stretched or draped over her perfect frame. When she came to the end of her collection, which didn't take long because I tore every item off of her as soon as she walked out in it, she lamented how old and worn the stuff she had now was and she didn't have the money to buy any more lingerie for awhile.

I spoke up, "Well if it isn't too forward of me, I would love to buy you a whole bunch of new lingerie if you'd model it for me, you know, a lot..."

She looked sidelong at me, "What did you say your job is?"

"One that pays plenty extra money for the important things in life, my sexy lingerie model. Now where do you want to go shopping?"

"Trashy Lingerie!"

And so we did.

I dressed pretty swanky: full dark grey double-breasted business suit, silk shirt, and silk tie. My long brown hair I tied back and glossed down with hair spray until it couldn't budge in a hurricane. I think I looked really sharp walking into the big building on La Cienega, which is painted as pink as a flamingo and living up to the name Trashy even before you see the merchandise, which was displayed even out on the sidewalk in front. Melissa wore a rather toned down sweat pant and top combination that still clung perfectly to her body, revealing enough of her shape to attract the eyes of men and women as we walked in to the store.

The sales girl was wearing what appeared to be a Halloween costume, but from the sort of Halloween party I never seem to get invited to. And she looked good in it, let me tell you. I was staring at her bare (and pierced!) navel when Melissa asked me what she should try on first.

I had a vision that moment of that Pretty Woman movie, when Richard Gere sits happily as Julia Roberts tries on everything in the store, modeling items for him as everybody fawns over her. Smiling, I crafted a plan in my tiny horny mind.

I gestured to the sales girl, who was only too happy to lean close enough for me to get a full view of her rather large cleavage as I whispered to her, "It's my girlfriend's birthday and I want to buy her a lot of stuff, I mean a LOT of stuff, you know?"

"What kind of a budget are you talking about?" She asked, straight to the bottom line.

I didn't feel embarrassed at all for telling her boobs we would likely spend between two thousand and four thousand dollars on lingerie for my birthday gal, and this place seemed as good as any to start.

Melissa was watching me quizzically, but she didn't have a chance to ask me anything before the sales girl had her bundled up and was dragging her back through the store.

Being a man alone in a women's lingerie store is one of those awkward situations that allow you to demonstrate your composure - or lack of it. I strove for composure. The first thing I noticed was that every spare foot in the place was filled with tables, shelves, and racks of garments. Where would Richard Gere sit? There wasn't a great big easy chair to lounge in while Melissa modeled for me anywhere. The sales girl solved that for me shortly when she came out in to the store and told me Melissa was ready to show me the first set of things she'd tried on.

I was led back into the changing rooms area. I tried to keep my eyes forward, sure I'd end up spying some old ugly Beverly Hills prune through a cracked door changing into some girdle that was way too small for her. I made it through to a bigger changing room in the back, and voila there was a chair, and a partition with gossamer thin garments strung over it, and even a table beside the chair with a glass of red wine to sip.

I had just sat down when Melissa came out in her first getup. I was amazed to see she was wearing the exact same costume that the sales girl had on. The fabric looked like plastic, all shiny but thin and fitted around her curves really well. She shone all over with red and white, and a little nurse's hat pinned in her hair. The skirt flair out from her waist so high that I saw the soft cotton white of her panties underneath it, and the top dipped low and around in that daisy-duke way, showing the rounded tops of Melissa's breasts - not quite as big as the sales girl's, but much smoother and evenly white. Melissa stepped out and turned around, asking what I thought.

"Come here and I'll show you what I think!" I said. Melissa looked towards the sales girl, the only other person in the room, who pointedly was inspecting some more items she'd brought Melissa to try on.

Melissa walking slowly towards me in her costume, swaying her hips exaggeratedly. Her long legs were bare and smooth all the way up to her panties, clearly visible under the skirt that was more a symbol than a real skirt. My hand traced her smooth leg up between her thighs until my finger stroked the thin material of her cotton panties, and Melissa groaned softly.

In a husky voice I said, "I think this could take a little while, modeling lingerie..."

The sales girl cleared her throat and held up a stack of fabric that didn't look like it could cover a hand, let alone all of Melissa's private parts. As she went to change I took a sip of the wine, which wasn't bad, and thought there were worse ways to spend an afternoon.

To be continued

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